


Make Damn Sure

by WingsforWinter



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Castiel, Dark Castiel, Desert Island, M/M, Obsession, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:58:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1563842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsforWinter/pseuds/WingsforWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has been stranded on the island for over a year now, with Dean as his only companion, until one day he sees a plane in the distance. Finally, a chance to be rescued.</p>
<p>It would be a blessing, if Castiel actually wanted off the island.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Damn Sure

**Author's Note:**

> Day 10! I'm officially a third of the way done with this series!
> 
> Prompt: Deserted Island
> 
> Part of the [30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge](http://ghiraher.tumblr.com/post/37135733342/30-day-cheesy-tropes-challenge)

 

 

 

“Dean! Please, please, please… oh god.” Castiel begged, writhing on the stone shelf beside the lake. Dean had been hinting at this all day, until Cas was thrumming with need.

 

Dean smirked around his dick and worked another finger inside him, keeping his other arm pressed against Castiel’s stomach so he couldn’t jerk his hips up like he so desperately wanted to. A third finger had Castiel nearly sobbing, pressing back as much as he could and pleading shamelessly for Dean to hurry up.

 

If he ever had a problem with this, he had long since gotten over it. They had been stuck on this godforsaken island well over a year now, and his strict Christian upbringing was as distant and foggy as a fever dream.

 

 

Here, there was no one to tell him that it was wrong. Here, all that mattered was Dean finally, finally rising up and pushing in to him. The sharp-sweet stretch as they joined. Dean’s rough hands smoothing over his sun weathered skin. Soft lips pressed to his chest, his neck, his mouth. Castiel defied anyone to feel the indescribable pleasure of being the center of Dean’s universe and call it sin.  

 

 

Dean’s actions were gentle, almost reverent, but his sounds were rough and animalistic. All grunts and snarls and growls as he thrust into Castiel, and Cas remembered how jarring the change was that came over him all those months ago.

 

 

Just days after the plane had gone down and they realized that there were no other survivors, that they might be stranded there for a while, Castiel had watched Dean transform before his eyes. Gone was the straight-laced businessman with his smart ties and leather shoes. In his place stood a wild thing. Cunning and brutality and a strange, predatorial grace wrapped up in the most beautiful body Castiel had ever seen.

 

The first week, Cas had trailed behind in a daze as Dean collected pieces of the plane to make tools, watched him search, and eventually find a source of fresh water, tagged along and observed as Dean laid out traps that caught them the first food they’d had in days.

 

Dean’s father was an avid hunter, and raised his son to know how to survive in the wilderness. That knowledge had been the only thing standing between the two of them and certain death—by starvation or exposure or any of the countless other dangers that Dean had saved him from since that fateful day.

 

Dean had showed him, after he expressed an interest to learn, how to rig a snare, or how long to boil water to make sure it was safe to drink, or what colors on a snake belied its poisonous nature. But Castiel was always a step behind. He’d had a soft upbringing, and it showed.

 

He tried hard to learn and adapt as Dean did, but he failed often and spectacularly, and so somewhere along the line, Dean had made it his mission to care for Cas. To put his all into making him happy, and comfortable, and eventually loved, and Castiel soaked it up and wanted more.

 

 

Cas reached up and ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, and the man leaned in to the touch like a cat, green eyes fluttering shut. He would always want more. Every day, forever. Dean’s love and single-minded devotion was a drug, and Castiel was hooked. 

 

 

They still kept the driftwood ‘S.O.S.’ in place on the beach, fixing it each time a storm knocked it out of place, and they had wood piles stashed around the island for emergency fires if a plane or ship was to go by, but neither of them were holding their breath on a rescue.

 

 

Dean’s hips stuttered, and picked up the pace. Castiel knew he was getting close. He reached between them to take his cock in hand but Dean batted him away. Still slick with his saliva, Dean’s hand moved smoothly over Castiel’s shaft, pumping him in time with his thrusts. Castiel tensed, and Dean let go to cradle his head, kissing him softly as he came in hot stripes between them. Dean finished a few minutes later, whispering adorations into the bend where Castiel’s neck and shoulder met.

 

They lay there for a while after, lazing in the sun. Dean drew random patterns with a fingertip over the smooth panes of Castiel’s stomach. It tickled, but he didn’t move away. Soon they’d have to get up and get cleaned and go about hunting and gathering and doing all the other myriad little things that kept them alive from day to day. Castiel savored every second of down time with Dean.

 

Most of the time he was quiet, like today. But every once in a while he would talk to Castiel about life Before. About his father, who never recovered from his mother’s death; about his old job and his friends and his string of failed relationships; about his little brother, the light of his life, the only reason he had for wanting off the island at all.

 

_‘If it wasn’t for Sammy,’_ Dean whispered to him once, on a day not very unlike this one, _‘I would throw all that driftwood back out to sea and just stay here with you forever. You would stay, right Cas? You would stay with me?’_

 

And Castiel had assured him with words and kisses that yes, he would stay with Dean. He would follow him anywhere. In fact, Castiel had nothing in the real world to go back for. There was no Sammy in his life. He'd been alone, and now he wasn't. Dean made him feel so special, so adored and cherished that Castiel had forgotten just how unbearably lonely he'd been in the outside world. Cas was drawn in like a moth to flame, and what a flame Dean was. The hard life they led for the past year had molded and hardened Dean’s body, the sun had freckled his skin and lightened his hair and it was all Castiel could do to not just sit and stare like he’d done the first few days, completely enraptured.

 

They eventually did get up, and Dean went off to check the snares while Cas climbed trees for fruit and sometimes to raid a bird’s nest for eggs. He made it back to their shelter as the sun was just starting to set. Dean wasn’t back, which was odd, but not unheard of, so Castiel stoked the fire back up and began to prepare dinner.

 

By nightfall, he still hadn’t returned, and Cas started to get worried. Dean never stayed out after dark. Anxiety leeched cold tendrils up his spine as he waited for any sound; any movement to let him know Dean was back.

 

He was about to make a torch and try to find Dean when the man himself stumbled in to their camp, bleeding profusely from his forehead. Castiel stamped down the panic that threatened to seize him at the sight of so much blood, and he pressed a clean cloth to the wound. Dean explained in slurred sentences that he had fallen as he climbed down a steep gorge on the other side of the island and hit his head.

 

The bleeding stopped after a little while, but the injury had Dean laid up for days. Cas went about their day-to-day business as best he could by himself, and spent every available minute at Dean’s side. He reveled in the fact that he could finally show Dean just how much he meant to him.

 

 

Dean had been bedridden for three days when they heard a sound in the distance.

 

Cas was out of the shelter and running before the command left Dean’s lips. He flew through the trees, branches whipping his skin in his rush. He made it to the beach and could just see the white trail of an airplane in the distance.

 

Heart in his throat, he waved his arms and shouted before realizing that there was no way anyone would be able to see him from the plane. He took off running again, to the nearest pile of wood. He gathered an armful of wet leaves to make a thick plume of smoke, and then started striking the flint and steel together to make a spark, just like Dean showed him. On his fifth try, the spark started eating up the kindling greedily, the flame growing by the second.

 

He had the leaves in his hand, ready to throw up a signal, when a thought froze him in his tracks.

 

What would happen if the plane saw them?

 

Dean had been an important man, the CEO of a privately owned arms business. He was someone that people would have missed, someone that would have responsibilities and schedules and appointments the second he touched down on American soil.

 

And Castiel was a nobody. A nameless, faceless assistant to another CEO that just so happened to be on that flight. Had the plane not gone down, he never would have even spoken to the beautiful man, let alone formed a relationship or fell in love with him.

 

Would Dean still want him once they were rescued? Would he see Castiel as someone who went through the same experience, making them kindred spirits? Or would he view him as a reminder of a horrible experience that he would like to put behind him as soon as they landed?

 

 

He couldn’t do it.

 

He couldn’t take that chance. There were too many unknown variables, too many reasons that Dean could use to leave him.

 

He dropped the leaves back on to the forest floor. The fire burned hot, but the dry wood barely gave off any smoke at all. There was no way anyone would see it. Once he was sure the plane was out of sight, he would throw in a handful or two in case Dean went to check, but the danger would have passed by then.

 

Castiel crouched down and gazed at the dancing embers in front of him. Dean couldn’t know, couldn’t ever find out about it. He would hate Castiel for this, and Castiel couldn’t have that. As long as they were here, together, everything would be fine.

 

Besides, Dean said himself that he would stay here with Cas. Stay forever here with him and only him.

 

Now all Castiel had to do was make sure he could never leave.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Love me some crazy!Cas ;)


End file.
